They said it was a bad idea—projecting our ancient needlecraft onto a Martian surface forever influenced by cosmic wind.
Yet here you are, attempting it anyway in this embroiderium of terrestrial mockery and stardust.
Remember to thread the emotional needle carefully: humorously existential, not just existentially humorous.
Somewhere between Pleiades and your second cup of intergalactic coffee, lies the irony—an ironic stitch, locking time and space into a bizarre quilt of *what if* and *why not*.
And as we proceed, be mindful of the aerial artisans who might judge your color choices from their distant perch upon Olympus XI.
Hear that? No, of course you don't.